


His Little Moment

by coffeeblossoms02



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: During Canon, Feelings Realization, M/M, i still don't know what to tag help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 15:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18122777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeblossoms02/pseuds/coffeeblossoms02
Summary: Dejun finally understands what he's  feeling





	His Little Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Xiaokun exists and this just happens

“I wanna hear the song first—“Dejun says to Kun when they’re discussing about their parts in the song for their upcoming project, gesturing to the lyrics, “—to see if I can harmonize during the part. At the chorus part.”

But he can’t tear his eyes off of Kun when the song plays, less to focus on it, as it blurs into white noise. He let himself drown in Kun’s beautiful pair of black eyes, concentrated to the soft tunes. When Kun’s eyes shift and meet his, he nods mindlessly and turns his gaze.

_What is this feeling?_

He dances his fingers on his lover’s strings, strumming tunes of the song, his head nodding along, as his futile attempt of working _and_ keeping his head on the surface.

He doesn’t dare speaking louder than a quiet breeze in the room where the wind can’t slip through, afraid of breaking the serene atmosphere engulfing them, covering them in comfortable air he could fall into slumber then and there. He’s grateful that he has total control over his voice, so it’s not a problem for him. He would text his father and say thanks for the most amazing gift he’s received since birth later.

So why in the soundproof room, where no sound could come out or come in, when it’s quiet for the moment, except for the song playing softly, he can still hear his heartbeat thumping loudly?

“I’ll harmonize here.” Kun says, sounding as beautiful as ever even in serious, working mode.

“Okay.” He replies softly as an automatic response.

_Thump._

“Now let’s decide on the second verse,” Kun continues, “The part that we sing softly that we talked about earlier.”

He simply hums. He could care less about the song honestly; he knows the lyrics and notes by heart already. But he let Kun do the lead.

How would he not let him, when the older looks so comfortable, so soft drowning in yellow oversized sweater, fluffy hair falls naturally onto his face, with round, thin rimmed glasses perched on his nose?

Really, he would give the world to Kun, if he let him.

If _he_ just say something.

“I want to sing this part.” He says instead, referring to the part they sang softly together earlier, shooting a smile that he hopes could melt Kun’s heart. His free hand, that isn’t rested on his lover’s neck flails. He just hopes Kun wouldn’t notice his nervousness.

“Do you want to do this part?” Kun, being the angel he is, altruistic as ever, only wants what’s best for his didi, asks.

He’ll pretend that he has more meaning than just a didi to his Kun gege.

“Yes, I want to sing it quietly.” He answers happily, knowing Kun gives in to him.

He wouldn’t ask for more, not for the moment, at least.

 

It could be the song he chose because he loved it and Kun agreed to it, or it could also be the soft notes flowing from the piano played by Kun’s lithe fingers, dancing as smooth as the wind, that moves his fingertips on his lover’s strings with ease.

But he wants to believe that’s because it’s Kun who plays it.

He ticks his lover’s strings again, reveling in the moment of an angel playing a song for him.

And when Kun opens his mouth, he knows the heaven is missing one of its’ best. He might be a little biased. Okay, _very much_ biased. But he can’t help it. Kun is an angel, by existence, by essence, by voice.

 

“There are scenes that come to mind when you listen to this song.” Kun’s voice disperses his thoughts. “What kind of scene is it? Tell me.”

“On the roof of the house at night.” He replies easily, the words that have been piling on his throat, waiting to be released, flow past his tongue, passing through his finger trapped between his teeth, humming in the quiet air.

He pulls out his finger, relieved that he could reveal a speck of his imagination to Kun.

But his traitor tongue isn’t satisfied yet, adding, “Rooftop, love.”

He laughs nervously, hoping Kun wouldn’t catch the true meaning behind the slipped word. He steals a quick glance at Kun, and the older doesn’t look like he noticed anything strange. He exhales in relief.

No, it’s not like he’s been daydreaming about lounging comfortably on the rooftop with Kun, with the song playing softly as the background music. Nope. Don’t believe that liar soul.

 

 _Tell me, how do I do this properly?_ He asks his lover, ticking some of her strings.

He tries, but he can’t think of anything else that doesn’t consist of Kun and him, harmonizing their voices on top of a skyscraper for the world to hear, to his—their song, illuminated by the shy but encouraging moonlight, pressed close their shoulders brush, and their breathes mingling in the air, hand in hand.

He would keep a part of his imagination where he could feel Kun’s lips humming the notes into his eager, accepting ones, to himself. That’s too private, not quite public appropriate. Not in the eastern entertainment industry they just barely dive in.

But maybe, in another universe, they could be.

 

“I drew something, please look at it.” He asks Kunhang as the other trudges to him.

“What did you draw?” Kunhang asks, with his perpetual wide smile.

“I drew the storyboard that we are going to shoot. Can you understand?”

Kunhang leans in, looking closer to the sketch on his notebook, and makes a surprised noise.

If Kunhang can’t understand his drawing, then his little dream is save, because Kunhang is clever and catches on to things so fast it’s scary, and his knowing smile every time he sees Dejun’s lingering gaze at Kun makes him anxious.

“This is you.”

He nods, relieved. “Right.”

“This is Kun ge.”

Another nod. “Right.”

“What are these?” Kunhang points at his attempt at drawing tall buildings.

“What do you think?”

“...are they soda crackers?”

So, yeah, his little dream is save from Kunhang’s attentive eyes. He thanks Heavens for his _almost there_ talent for drawing. Well, drawing isn’t the reason why he’s in the same group with Kun, working on a project together for their subunit.

(Kunhang can keep his long bangs over his eyes to keep Dejun’s nerves in check, thanks.)

 

“What are you doing?” He asks out of politeness as he walks back to the studio, when he can see himself that Kun is working on the song.

“I’m working on it.” Kun answers anyway, smile presents.

“Oh, I see.” He hates disturbing Kun when he’s working, but he needs to talk with the older about his idea. He’ll just exploit Kun’s patience a little bit. He sits down in front of Kun without waiting for a response, but he gets it anyway, because Kun is considerate like that.

“Why?”

“I’m drawing from my imagination,” he fiddles with his notebook, shuffling the thin papers between his fingers to the last open page, “About our upcoming shoot.”

He kind of shoves the book to Kun’s open palms. He’s still nervous, mind you. Kun might not know about the strange rhythm in his chest every time he’s in the same space as the older, but he’s still not risking anything, like spilling his little imagination without him knowing.

“Your handwriting is so...” Kun trails, amused smile playing in his face.

_Ok, the first thing he notices is my handwriting, cool, that’s good._

“As I told you before, I don’t want you to be influenced by my handwriting.” He reprimands softly, slapping his hand on his handwriting and keep it there. “Look at the one below.”

Kun tries to pry his hand from the writing, but leaves it as soon as their skins touch.

He feels the skin where Kun touched him tingling; and a quiet harmony plays in his heart.

“What’s this? This looks like... a lot of...” Kun breaks into laugh, “Looks like graves.”

He blinks, not believing his ears, no matter how lulling Kun’s laugh sounds. His drawing isn’t _that_ horrible. He just can’t deliver a message through drawing as well as he can singing, that’s all.

“It looks a little scary.” Kun adds, still with his melodious laugh.

_Ok, that’s enough._

“No!”

 

“I want you to look for pictures or a reference and send it to us.” The director says after Dejun explained his storyboard in a little meeting, Kun and he nod simultaneously.

He hums enthusiastically, already picturing them together, on a date to look for pictures. Though Kun doesn’t know that it’s a date, not work. Hey, a boy can dream, right?

“How is it?” Kun asks as they reach the rooftop, wanting to meet _his_ expectations.

 _Perfect_ , he wants to say.

The night view from the rooftop, where he can see the Han River, illuminated by the city light, is beautiful. But Kun is there, exists, breathing, smiling to _him_ , asking for _his_ opinion. What do you expect, really?

“It’s cool.” He says instead, a little affected by the night wind blowing to his face.

“I’ll take a picture of you.”

He wants to be the one taking tons of picture of Kun with the beautiful background view instead, but he shouldn’t raise suspicion, so he silently agrees, leaning to the fence.

“Make your best pose.”

_How could I? The best thing here is not me, but the one taking picture._

“Ready?”

He squint his eyes because of a stronger wind blows on his face, leaning further to his right side, hoping it would work as a pose.

“Three, two, one.”

He looks into the camera positioned in front of Kun’s face. But who is he fooling; even when he’s the one posing, Kun is the view—his view. He indulges with few more pictures, quietly enjoying the way Kun directs him for the pictures.

Only when Kun pressed close to him, one hand on his back, and the camera angled to their faces, he smiles.

 

When they’re done taking pictures, he comes up with an idea, not wanting the date to end. “Do you have the instrumental?”

Kun, the unsuspecting soul, answers, “Yes, I have it.”

“Let’s sing it here.” He says quickly.

Kun agrees way too easily, and he laughs, relieved.

He takes the start, as singing comes as easy as breathing to him, and the breezy, comfortable night air makes it easier, the tunes flow and dance with him like an old friend.

But when Kun starts harmonizing with him, it’s only the two of them under the moonlight.

He can’t even start with how grateful he is, for his love of singing takes him to where he is now, working on a project with an angel who gives him one more reason to love his life.

 

 _I didn’t even pose correctly, yet he managed to take beautiful pictures_ , he wonders inwardly as he inspects their Polaroid pictures. _We stan multitalented king._

Kun loves taking pictures when he’s happy, wanting to share his happiness with their fans and Dejun would like to think that Kun is happy with him, even though only for a moment, and would love to share that little moment to the world.

His only regret is that he can’t take more pictures of Kun. Or with Kun, with their heads lean on one another, using his favorite black and white filter. They almost look perfect together.

 

He keeps that little moment with Kun onto his memory, braids it with his little dream, and tucks them safely in the music box inside his heart, and he smiles a little to himself.

_I know this feeling._

 


End file.
